The Letters Part V The Reckoning
by Eva3
Summary: Roxton and Marguerite, through an untimely turn of events, learn a valuable lesson in life...to appreciate every moment together.


THE LETTERS PART V - THE RECKONING

By Eva

DAY ONE

The sun was trying to rise in the east, but the jungle darkness and mist were holding fast to their silent vigil around the treehouse that morning. Inside, however, there was at least one person sleeping that might still consider it the middle of the night. 

A fully dressed Roxton sat on the edge of their bed watching the woman sleeping with her back toward him. Leaning over the pillow, he pushed aside the surge of mussed hair from the nape of her neck, and bending close to kiss her now exposed skin, he whispered, "Wake up my little slugabed. It's almost dawn."

Marguerite shifted her position slightly to turn onto her stomach and flicked her hand over her shoulder, pushing Roxton's face away.

He slid his hands under her waist and rolled her onto her back. "Come on, Marguerite. The sun is almost up and you're not even awake yet."

"Nooooo…." she groaned. "Leave me alone, Roxton. I'm not awake yet," she slurred and started to roll over again.

"Oh, no you don't." He caught her in mid-roll, lifting her to a sitting position.

"You're heartless! You know that, don't you?" Squinting through the open window at the darkness, she complained, "The sun isn't even out and you're waking me up?"

"Sweetheart, did you forget what we have planned for today?"

Her head slumped over her knees. "An all day sleep marathon? I vote we start right now." She fell back on the bed, covering her eyes with her arms.

Roxton knelt on the bed and leaned over her face. "We're going on an outing with Challenger. Don't tell me you've forgotten? We talked about it yesterday."

"'Talked about it'? I think the key words here are 'talked about it!!' I don't remember planning it," she moaned.

"Talk. Plan. Same thing." He took both her arms and pulled her to a sitting position again. Jumping off the bed, he started handing Marguerite her clothes.

Slumped on the bed and clutching the crumpled sheet to her naked body, she growled, "John, at least let me sponge off. And, why are you dressed, already? I can't believe you didn't wait for me. You always wait for me to help you get dressed." Beginning to wake up, her next complaint was, "And, is there any coffee? I'm not going anywhere unless I have my coffee first."

He smiled broadly at the idea she actually enjoyed helping him choose his daily outfit. She'd always acted as though it was a chore. Extremely pleased with himself, he laughed, "Veronica's brewing it right now. Can't you smell it?" 

Looking upwards into his grinning face, "Tell me, John. Are you always this cheerful first thing in the morning? You do realize I'm not a morning person, don't you?"

"That was one of the first things I did realize about you, Miss Krux." Sitting down on the bed beside her, he nuzzled her neck with little kisses while languishing his hands down her bare back to her smooth backside. "That and the fact you were the most beautiful and electrifying woman I'd ever met."

Pushing him away she clipped, "Compliments will get you nowhere. I'm still not a morning person."

Roxton quickly jumped off the bed bounding for the stairs. "Hurry and put your clothes on. Breakfast is waiting. Oh, and maybe you should look under your pillow. There's something there that might help you wake up." He laughed to himself as he disappeared into the main room of the treehouse.

She shouted after him, **"What's a slugabed?" **Then to herself, "Probably not something I'd want to know about anyway."

Shaking her head and sighing, she reached under the pillow knowing exactly what she'd find. He'd left enough surprises there for her to know it was another letter. Her collection was growing by leaps and bounds. The man was an incurable romantic, but way too high-spirited in the mornings…and loud! However was she going to get used to that dreadful habit?

Curling her legs underneath her, she began to read the letter.

__

My darling Marguerite,

Another night together, another morning waking up with you next to me. I sometimes wonder what right thing I must have done in my life to deserve your love.

To think, we had to travel half way around the world to find that love. But find it we have, and I mean to hold on to this love you've offered and graced me with. 

Every day and every night spent with you is a lifetime unto itself. But the thought that we're about to embark on a lifetime together is sometimes beyond my comprehension of happiness.

You've managed to turn this ordinary life into one of sweet promises, and I'll always love you for that.

Your husband-to-be, 

John 

Marguerite smiled and lovingly smoothed her hand over that side of the bed where Roxton had slept last night. "Hmmmm, well," she said out loud, "I suppose I could handle one bad habit."

************

Fifteen minutes later Marguerite trounced up the stairs to the main room, fully dressed, hair pulled back in a thick braid trailing down her back and carrying her hat. 

"Okay, I'm ready. Where's the coffee?"

"No time, Marguerite. We've wasted most of the morning. Here, I made you a canteen. You can drink it on the way."

Refusing the coffee-filled canteen with an upraised hand, she said, "Enough already, Roxton. I'm not going anywhere until I sit down and drink my coffee like the civilized human being that I am," she said defiantly.

"A few minutes more won't hurt, John. Let the woman have her coffee."

"Thank you, George. At least someone here agrees with me. It's much more civilized when you drink your coffee at a table, rather than while walking down some God-forsaken jungle trail."

Handing her a cup of hot steaming coffee, Malone said, "Good morning, Marguerite…another glorious day…another glorious mood, I see."

Dropping her hat on a nearby empty chair, she gratefully accepted the hot brew, letting the sarcastic remark pass over without comment. Consuming the liquid staff of life was much more important to her at the moment.

A few sips and she felt the blood begin to tingle and flow on its natural course through her body. A renewed surge of energy took over and she reached over to pluck one of the biscuits from the top of the heaping platter Veronica had just brought to the table.

Gulping down the hot doughy mound in two quick bites, Marguerite suddenly rose from the table, life beginning to look good again. She grabbed her hat, pushing it firmly on her head and said, "So, who's going on this expedition? Everyone, or just the three of us?"

"Only the three of us, Marguerite," John shouted from the foyer where he was assembling the packs and guns.

"John's right. Ned and I are staying here alone." Realizing the sort of imagery that must be producing, she quickly added, "…to guard the treehouse, so to speak."

Marguerite looked disbelievingly first at Veronica, then to Malone, then back to Veronica. "Alone? The two of you. Here in the treehouse?" She laughed and turned to join Roxton in the foyer, now loading the baggage in the elevator.

"We've been alone before, " Malone said defensively.

Sidling up to Veronica, Marguerite whispered, "Just don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Don't you mean 'anything you would do'?", Veronica shot back.

Marguerite joined John in the foyer, as he said, "Well, your mood's certainly changed since I woke you this morning."

Looking around to make sure no one was watching or within earshot, she rose on her tiptoes to kiss him smartly on the lips. "It's amazing what one finds under one's pillow. It's those little things in life that gives you the incentive to enjoy the day." Eyes suddenly going tender, she said, "Thank you, John. It was a very loving letter."

He shrugged, and then bent down meaning to kiss her, but at the last second pulled back briefly to brush a few biscuit crumbs still clinging to her chin. Smiling he finally leaned in to catch her lips with his in a short and sweet kiss. Pausing he breathed in the essence of this woman he'd promised to love forever, and said softly, "You're very welcome, I'm sure."

Embarrassed to be interrupting this unusual public display of affection, Challenger shielded his eyes as he blurted out, "Okay…you two. If we've had enough morning conversation, can we please get started? The sun's already up. We're burning daylight."

Marguerite tossed him a sarcastic scowl. "Gee, George, is that an original statement or one you borrowed from one of those penny-dreadful westerns Malone's always reading?"

"Watch your tongue, young lady. We're going to be together for at least the next three days. Let's see if we can maintain a modicum of decorum along the trail," he chided.

Following Roxton and Challenger into the elevator, she asked, "Along the trail of what? Exactly what are we looking for this time?"

As the lift creaked its descent through the hollowed tree base, Roxton said, "Wild game of course, to stock our food larders."

"Actually, it's going to be more like a botany search to refill our supply of herbs and tonics," George countered.

Marguerite looked from side to side with a frown for both her male companions and replied, "How about a way off this plateau? Now there's something we haven't looked for in quite a while."

Thus began their journey, no one realizing the effect the events of the next three days would bring to each of their lives.

**********

The sunlight was fading as fast as the temperature, signaling the end of the first day. The extra backpacks were bulging at the seams with the plants and herbs Challenger had uprooted along the trail. His unflagging enthusiasm, however, was not matched by his tired and cranky female friend.

Roxton wandered around the edge of the clearing gathering kindling and small tree branches for the evening fire, as Marguerite unloaded the cooking utensils and unrolled the bedding.

"So, George did we find everything on the list today? Has our little jaunt proved successful? Enough maybe to return to the treehouse and a hot bath…and…."

"Oh, Marguerite…we've been quite successful, but I do believe we need to move more to the northwest side of the plateau. We seem to be missing a few essential items."

"But George, our bags are overflowing now. We easily have enough to stock our first aid kits for six months."

"We can never have enough. In fact, I was thinking we might have to extend our trip."

"Extend!!! Oh no! Nothing was said about a possible extension of time. Three days. That was the agreement."

Returning to the encampment with an armload of brittle branches, Roxton smiled wryly. "Now Marguerite, quit your complaining. Here you are, in the middle of paradise, in the company of two of the most brilliant and charming men on the plateau, about to spend a glorious night under the stars, breathing fresh air……"

"Spare me…the details, John," she said holding up one hand in protest.

"Maybe after supper, you and I can take a little stroll along the riverbank? You know, just the two of us. No interruptions, specifically no Malone."

"Tempting as that sounds, I'd much prefer to catch up on some lost sleep before my watch." Rolling her eyes upward, "If you remember, I was awakened at an un-Godly hour this morning, walked around in circles, covered almost every square inch of this plateau." She ended the conversation with a defiant, "And quite frankly, I'm tired."

"Well, it's your loss. But it just seems to me you're missing out on much life has to offer by sleeping it away."

"Think what you like. But you know and I know, I'm always in a much better mood when I've had a full night's sleep. So, it's your choice. Midnight walk and a cranky companion tomorrow. Or, extra sleep tonight, and a well-rested and happy fiancé come morning."

Remembering how her mood could exacerbate a saint when she'd not had enough sleep, he said, "I see what you mean. Well, since you put it that way…." Nuzzling the back of one of her ears, he whispered, "Though I must say, I do love the sound of that word…fiancé."

**********

The day had been an exhausting one for all three travelers, but especially Challenger who had expended most of his energy deciding which plants should be pulled and stocked in the bags. 

Not long after supper, Challenger retired for the evening, with Marguerite following suit not long afterwards. Each chose a spot on opposite sides of the small campfire while Roxton prepared to stand first watch.

Moving so he was a few inches away from where Marguerite lay, he wadded his bedding against a nearby tree. Leaning back against the crude cushion, he checked the rifle next to his leg then looked over to check on the woman lying beside him. Before closing her eyes, Marguerite turned on her side facing him and squeezed his arm as he slid his hand up to take hers, bringing it to his lips.

"Sleep well. I'll wake you in a couple of hours."

Smiling into his face and still holding his hand, she sighed as her heavy eyelids closed, knowing she was well protected for the night. Roxton watched her for some time, as her legs curled then tucked under her bedding, causing the curves of her body to slope in that appealing way she had when sleeping. 

When he was sure she was asleep, he laid her hand down by her side and pulled the blanket up to cover her shoulders. Stroking the fraying hairs of her braid, he said softly so as not to wake her, "I wonder if you'll ever know how much I love you."

**********

DAY TWO

Roxton awoke that morning at his usual time with the sun just rising over the crest above the trees. Challenger, coming off the last watch, was fanning the embers of the campsite fire.

John stretched out his long legs to the full length of his tall body, working out the kinks of having slept on the hard ground the night before. Looking around the campsite, he was quick to note that Marguerite was missing. Jumping to his feet, he asked, "Where's Marguerite? She didn't go wandering off, did she? She knows the rules."

'Relax, John. She walked down to the river to fill the canteens."

"She's up already, before me?", he asked disbelievingly.

"I believe she said something about getting some extra sleep last night. And, you know she has to have her coffee first thing," he chuckled. "She does have her priorities. Although, she's had plenty of time to go and come back. Maybe we should…."

"No need to send out a search party, George. I'm back. But, it is good to know I was missed. Anyone for fresh trout?"

Roxton's face relaxed in relief at the sight of her emerging through the heavy brush, canteens slung over her shoulder, until he saw she wasn't alone. He instinctively reached for his rifle as Marguerite quickly added, "It's okay, John. He's a friend. We met at the riverbank. Gabriel Bishop, let me introduce my friends and traveling companions. This is Professor George Challenger, the leader of our little mismatched expedition and this," holding onto John's arm, "is Lord John Roxton, my fiancé."

The husky man laid down the line of fish he'd been carrying and eagerly approached the two men with an extended hand. 

Challenger was the first to step forward. "Pleased to meet you, sir. You must forgive our mistrustful natures. We're not accustomed to our Marguerite bringing home strangers."

Roxton remained where he stood, silently sizing up this newly found friend of Marguerite's who, in his eyes, seemed to be intent on invading his personal world. He was a tall man, well over 6 feet, with chestnut brown hair and a full grown beard. It wasn't only his height that made him appear larger than life, but the girth of the man made it hard to ignore his presence. Not exactly a match for John's looks, but not someone who could be considered unhandsome either. He didn't, however, seem to be the type his Marguerite would have looked twice at back in London. 

The large man thrust his hand keenly in John's direction, as Roxton slowly accepted his handshake.

"I can understand your reticence, Lord Roxton. I'm sure I'd react the same way if a stranger walked into camp with my future wife."

"Just so we're clear why there's a ring on her left hand."

"John! There's no need to take that tone. Gabriel's offered to share his catch of the morning. We met when I went for water this morning." Grabbing Roxton's arm excitedly, she rushed on. "He's on his way to Lizard City…and he knows Tribune. In fact, he's…,"

"All right, Marguerite. Calm yourself. Maybe your new friend can talk for himself." Turning to Gabriel, he asked, "Just what is your business at the Lizard City?"

"As I was telling Miss Krux, I'm a tradesman by profession. I travel with my partner to the different outposts of the Lizard kingdom. Our home base is your friend Tribune's Lizard City. We're on our way there now to ply our wares, as it were."

"And, just what are your wares, 'as it were'?" Roxton mimicked, not bothering to conceal his mistrust.

"Oh, John…you'll never believe. Jewelry! Can you believe that? Rubies, emeralds….," 

"Actually, most are just baubles, trinkets sold at the local markets," Gabriel corrected his new friend. "But we do occasionally deal with some of the more expensive pieces of precious stones."

Roxton mouth tightened in a straight line. He pursed his lips and nodded. "Oh. I see."

"Now, John. Take that look on your face. He trades in other merchandise too. Jewels just happen to be his specialty."

"I thought you'd lost interest in that sort of thing."

Her excitement only temporarily abated, she replied, "You mean since we became engaged? My goodness, John, marrying you doesn't mean I've lost interest in everything else." The jealous scowl still prevailed on his ruggedly handsome face as she leaned in to whisper in his ear, "You're still the only man in my heart. You know that." Squeezing his arm, she turned back to join Challenger and Gabriel at the campfire.

"How's breakfast coming along? I've worked up quite an appetite."

Suspicion and paranoia began to churn, threatening to spill over into harsh words. But after a few deep breaths, Roxton turned away from the small group at the fire, and walking the opposite way began yanking the blankets from the ground and jamming them into the backpacks. Any sort of action would have sufficed, anything to quell the surge of anger and jealousy he was feeling at the moment. 

He knew, as she'd just confided in him, he was the only man in her heart, but that didn't stop him from being covetous of her attention to anything or anyone other than himself. She had this way of reaching out to other men that never failed to stir something primal in him. He'd laid claim to her years ago, but a certain measure of restraint had to be maintained. Too much pressure could tip the scales and push her away. Truth be told, never had he worked so fervently or so long for any woman's affections before. It was new to him, foreign and unnatural.

Listening to the light-hearted chatter of Marguerite and the others, he longed to return to the treehouse and to those nights in their small bed where she gave and he took. That was the glue that held the bond between them. She denied him nothing in the privacy of their room. Outside the room, however, was another story.

"John, aren't you hungry? Come have breakfast. There's plenty of time to pack," Marguerite called out.

Reluctantly, he joined the small group and the now inviting aroma of fish frying over an open fire. 

Handing Roxton a mug of hot coffee, Marguerite said excitedly, "John, Gabriel's just told me there's a festival planned for tonight and tomorrow at the Lizard City. He's offered to take us there as his guests. Couldn't we go? It's only a couple of days." Looking to Challenger for an ally, "And, wouldn't the both of you like to see Tribune again?"

"Now, Marguerite. Weren't you just complaining last night that you were ready to return to the treehouse? That you were tired of traipsing through the jungle?"

"Oh, John. That was because you know how much I hate camping out. Tribune would be happy to put us up for a couple nights. You and he could talk over old times."

"Old times? You seem to forget the 'old times' were mostly spent in the gladiator arena. Still, we did become friends - of a sort."

"It might be good to attend a celebration of one of the local civilizations," Challenger said. Roxton gave him a sideward glance, to which he added quickly, "..to bring back fodder for Malone's journals, of course."

"But what would we do with all these plants and supplies, George? Don't we need to get them back to the treehouse as soon as possible?" He was grasping at any plausible excuse not to join the tradesman and his group.

Gabriel quickly answered, "My caravan has horses and wagons. We could transport everything there easily, then bring you back to your point of origin afterwards, if you'd like."

"Oh, please John. It's just for a couple of days. We could send a mirror signal to Veronica and Malone and let them know where we're going to be," Marguerite pleaded.

Shaking his head in defeat, "Seems I'm outnumbered." Reluctantly, he succumbed. "All right. If it will make the both of you happy."

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. With a twinkle in her eyes, she said, "It'll be fun. You'll see, John. You're going to have a good time, in spite of yourself."

With still lingering misgivings, he nodded. "Just as you say, Marguerite." 

*********

Traveling by wagon, they arrived at the gates of Lizard City in a few hours, a trip that by foot would have taken most of the day.

Gabriel's caravan consisted of his partner, Damon Evril, three servants and four wagons with magnificent steeds attached to the reins that in Roxton's opinion looked far too valuable to be pulling merchant wagons. But, then perhaps their hosts traded in horseflesh as well.

As to the trip there, he kept close to Marguerite with an eye always trained on where she was at any given moment. His gut feeling told him neither Gabriel nor his partner Damon were trustworthy companions, either on the road or at their destination of the Lizard City.

Marguerite, on the other hand, was enjoying herself immensely, much to Roxton's dismay. Gabriel had insisted she ride in his wagon, up front with him. Roxton was equally as obstinate he join them. In truth, it made a comical sight to see the slender Marguerite squeezed between the two large men who seemed to be vying with each other for her undivided attention.

He had certainly not missed the flash in the partner's eyes when he'd been introduced to Marguerite. Where Gabriel was large, burly and for the most part congenial, his partner was the opposite in both physical appearance and in mannerisms. Damon Evril was tall, lanky and oozing with chicanery, someone Roxton had no intention of allowing Marguerite to be left alone with.

He was willing to accept the fact he would be marrying one of the most beautiful women in the world. To him, she was the most beautiful women he'd ever met, and he knew her beauty would always attract other men's attention. But knowing her propensity for flirting with each man she met, he also was aware he would need to make some serious adjustments in his attitude where his insecurities were concerned.

It was nearly mid-day when the caravan reached the city, and the closer they came to the great stone walls, the more the traffic increased on the road.

Inside the iron gates, Gabriel's servants went one way toward the stables to secure the wagons and horses, while the rest of travelers set out for the main square in the center of the great massive city.

Already booths were being erected and decorated for the festivities scheduled for that night. Marguerite could barely contain herself. She was delighted to see so many people gathered in one place. Not only were the green-scaly citizens of the Lizard City present, but just as many human faces as well. The exclusive lizard population they'd seen several years ago had now become integrated with those human civilizations living nearby the great stone city. She wondered about their old friend Tribune. How was he faring with all the changes in the status of his outpost kingdom? 

She hoped there would be music and dancing tonight. It had been a while since she and John had held each other and waltzed to Strauss. Not that she expected the musicians of the Lizard City to know any Strauss waltzes. But dancing was dancing, and they were long over due for the opportunity of enjoying themselves at a party.

Crowds were forming in the square and it was becoming obvious this festival was drawing in a myriad of activities for the night. Vendors were hawking their wares, everything from herbs and spices to finely spun silks and satins. Marguerite was flush with excitement. 

The spices and fabric held little interest though for the future Lady Roxton. Gabriel had promised to give her a private showing of his more expensive pieces of the bounty being transported in the wagons once they reached Tribune's palace. She knew John wasn't pleased with this deviation in their trip, nor was he all that thrilled to be re-visiting a painful reminder of their last encounter with Tribune and his people. But 'no harm in just looking', she thought.

Roxton practically had to drag Marguerite through the crowds, away from the distractions of the square and remind her to stay with the group. She was fascinated with the party spirit prevailing amongst the revelers.

As they reached the palace steps, Tribune walked out to welcome them.

"Gabriel and Damon, how good to see you again, and I see you're not alone. I had no idea you were acquainted with these old friends of mine."

"No, we just met this morning along the trail and I invited them to join in the celebration tonight. I hope that was all right, Tribune?" Gabriel asked.

"It's more than all right. I'm very pleased to see my friends from the treehouse again." 

Tribune reached out his hand to welcome the way worn travelers. "Lord Roxton, a pleasure as always. Professor, you're looking fit. And, the charming Miss Krux," he uttered as he bowed deeply and kissed her left hand. "Always a delight to be in your company."

"Tribune," she nodded graciously. 

He held onto her hand a moment longer as he admired the ring gracing the third finger. "What's this? I don't remember this sparkling piece of jewelry on your hand last time we met."

Roxton stepped forward and deliberately removed her hand from Tribune's. "It's called an engagement ring."

"Engagement ring? Does that mean…."

"Yes, it means the lady has agreed to be my wife," he said loud enough for everyone within a few yards to hear.

Blushing, Marguerite pulled her hand from Roxton's grip and grimacing said, "John, I really don't think the servants in the upper rooms of the palace are that interested in the fact you and I are betrothed." With a bored look on her face she turned to Tribune. "You have to forgive him. It's his first engagement."

John scowled and said tersely, "And, we all know it's not your first."

There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation as everyone recognized the tone in both Roxton and Marguerite's voices hinted a possible argument might be brewing.

Gabriel took this opportunity to speak. "This is probably a good time Damon and I should retire to our own residences. We have wagons to unload, and inventory to secure before tomorrow."

Damon nodded in agreement. "My partner's right. It's been a long trip and there's much preparation to be done before the main trading begins." He bowed lowly to Marguerite, and said, "I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Krux. Soon, I hope."

Roxton bristled at the familiarity in the tradesman's tone and was on the verge of stepping between them when Tribune stopped him by placing a hand on his arm.

"Just as you say gentlemen, but we do expect you back for dinner tonight here in the great hall. I'll say adieu till then." When the two tradesmen were out of sight, Tribune turned back to his old friends. "Sorry, John. I'm familiar with your temper as well as your mind-set where your lady friend is concerned. I was just trying to keep the peace. No offense intended."

Roxton bowed his head slightly in restrained gratitude. "None taken, Tribune."

"And, where are my manners? You'll stay here in the palace with me, of course. I'll have one of my servants show you to your rooms. Will you two be wanting separate rooms, or…."

"Separate!" snapped Marguerite. "Same!" cracked Roxton at the same time.

Glaring at each other, Marguerite came back with "Same!" as Roxton said, "Separate!"

Still acting as peace-maker, Tribune laughed lightly and said, "I suppose the best solution is to give you each a room next to each other, and you can decide later if you need the extra one or not."

"Sounds fair to me," Marguerite said as she turned to follow their host to their accommodations.

Following a short distance behind their host, Challenger could tell Roxton needed some reassurance. He leaned into his sullen face and said, "Relax, John. The ring on her finger means as much to her as it does to you. She's just excited over the prospect of seeing all those rubies and emeralds."

"The woman is exasperating! But, for 'better or worse', right?"

"All I can say is that you knew the woman had a mind of her own when you proposed."

"That, my friend, could never go unnoticed. But, honestly George, hasn't there ever been someone or something you knew you just had to have, at any cost?"

The older man nodded as his face turned reflective. "My wife, Jesse. The first time I met her I promised myself one day I'd marry her. So, I can appreciate how you're feeling, old man. Love is a powerful emotion. But not to worry. I've seen the look on Marguerite's face when she's on your arm. There's no mistaking that glow that comes into her eyes when you're by her side."

"I suppose I won't believe it till we're back in London and we're properly married. I won't breathe easy till then."

"Ah, yes. The pleasures of connubial bliss." Challenger clapped him on the back, and laughed, "Oh, John! You don't know it yet, but that's when the real trouble begins."

**********

By the time they reached their rooms, Roxton had made up his mind to take a strong hand in this vortex of disaccord. Standing at the door of the room Tribune had assigned him for the night, Marguerite was less than surprised, but undeniably pleased when he said, "We're not sleeping in separate rooms tonight, Marguerite. Considering where we are and under the circumstances, I think it wise if we stay close together, where I can make sure you're safe."

Smiling slowly, she purred as she sidled up to his side. "Why, John. And, all this time, I thought you were jealous of all the attention I was giving to Gabriel and Damon. Who knew you were just worried about my safety in a strange city."

He took her hand and pulled her into the room, closing the door soundly behind them. Mocking her, he said, "Me?…jealous? No, that never occurred to me, till now." Still holding onto her he stared into her face, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Is there something going on I should be jealous over?"

Laughing, Marguerite answered by kissing him softly on the lips and whispering in his ear, "If there were, I'm sure I wouldn't have to tell you. With your sharp eyes, you would have already known about it." Looking him squarely in the eyes, she said, "Oh, John, why do you worry about such things?"

"Because I've seen the passion in your eyes when the mention of precious stones are brought into the conversation." 

She stroked his cheek with an open palm, gingerly touching the bristle of his two-grown stubble. "You're my passion, John. My only passion."

He rolled his eyes upward, "I just top your list of passions, Marguerite. I have this feeling you'll always be attracted to anything that sparkles."

Trying to tease him into a good mood, she sashayed closer to him. Lightly licking her right hand, she reached up to endearingly smooth down the cowlick that always seemed to appear on the top of his head, no matter how long he may have worn his hat that day. "You sparkle. So, I suppose that means I'm attracted to you." 

Circling his neck with her arms, she said, "Let's not argue about anything tonight, John. Let's just concentrate on having a good time. We don't get that many chances to dance together. And, I want to dance all night, with you."

Embracing her he kissed her upturned face, and said, "Only with me?"

"Yes, my darling. Just with you."

**********

Much to everyone's relief, by dinner that evening it was obvious the frayed mood between Roxton and Marguerite was on the mend since both had decided to share the same room for the night. She had been far too exhilarated by the upcoming festivities to let too much distract her from having fun. 

And, Roxton decided that even though he had been annoyed with her for her thoughtless remark before, his role as her husband-to-be was still to watch over and protect, even if it was only from herself.

Always interested in how other civilizations governed themselves, Challenger was delighted they were joined by two of the senators whose chief occupation was to keep order in the outpost kingdom. It seems there'd been many changes at Lizard City since they'd last seen their friend.

Tribune, though he still retained the title of ruler, was nothing more than a figurehead, much like the gratuitous monarchy of England. The senators made all the laws, metering out judgment and sentence, usually within hours of a crime. 

The talk at the table was amiable enough but Marguerite seemed to be enjoying herself a little more than Roxton would have liked. He sat on her one side and Gabriel's partner Damon on the other. It seemed the two partners were determined to place temptation in Marguerite's path. Roxton was more than displeased when he overheard Damon offering to show her the best of their priceless collection. 

He feared the glimmer in Marguerite's eyes and enthusiasm in her voice might well be misunderstood by the slippery Monsieur Evril. He made a mental note to stay close to her tonight. Dancing would most surely be the best way to keep her attention focused on him, and not on the prospect of having a close-up look at those sparkling stones. Would he ever feel comfortable sharing her cache of passions?

********

The music, dancing and celebrating had begun in earnest when the group from the great hall made their way to the square. While Challenger perused the vendor booths looking for antiquities, Marguerite was pleading with John to dance with her. 

Whirling her around the wooden planks of the makeshift dance floor, Roxton, in spite of his previous annoyance, began to relax each time Marguerite beamed into his face. Holding her in his arms was working nicely as a panacea for his earlier suspicions. His mind was always working overtime where her welfare was concerned, but he was enjoying himself immensely knowing that for the moment he was on the receiving end of her undivided attention.

The music paused and Roxton took the opportunity to excuse himself and look for something wet and cold for their dry throats. Dancing certainly made one thirsty. He was sure she would safe for a few moments as he left her at the edge of the dance floor. 

Marguerite was quick to find a nearby bench on the far end of the square, but still within sight of the others. She hadn't danced in so long, she needed to rub her sore legs. They were having a good time though, and that was all that mattered. John had seemed so grim all the way here and throughout most of the feast in the great hall. He was much too mistrustful of any man paying attention to her. Another one of his bad habits she supposed she would have to get used to eventually. 

She genuinely regretted their earlier spat, especially since there had been so many witnesses. What Gabriel and Damon must think of her for making such a fuss over Roxton's possessive nature? She was wondering if she shouldn't make some sort of apology for both their ill-mannered behaviors. She was beginning to rehearse the words in her mind, when Damon suddenly appeared in front of her.

By the slight swaying in his stance and the strong stench of ale, it was obvious he'd imbibed his full quotient for the night. Leaning into her face, he said, "Miss Krux, has your intended left you alone? And, on such a joyful night. Surely, he hasn't abandoned you for another dancing partner?"

"Hardly. He's only gone for something to drink." Noticing his apparent tipsiness she added, "And, what about the woman I saw you dancing with before? You haven't abandoned her for another woman, have you?"

"If I were to have a straying eye, I would most certainly be choosing the most beautiful woman here tonight. You, Miss Krux." Taking her hand, he kissed it and whispered closely to her face, "Perhaps I should take this opportunity of the absent Lord Roxton to tempt you with a glimpse of the jewels you seemed so interested in before. I have them right here in my coat pocket."

Pulling her hand away from him, she stood up abruptly, and said, "Monsieur Evril, I believe you've had too much ale tonight. Maybe we should return to the party. I can already hear the musicians….."

She turned to walk away, as he reached out one arm to block her departure while catching her shoulder with the other. He whirled her around to face him, as her hand came up to slap him. He caught her hand in mid-air and pulled her roughly to him. 

She opened her mouth to call out for Roxton, but he was already there, strong hands gripping Evril's shoulders and yanking him away from Marguerite. "Take your hands off her!"

His better judgment told him to leave it at that, but when he saw the unwavering look in the other man's eyes, something snapped inside him. His temper overtook his good sense and he swung at Damon hitting him hard on the jaw. 

Damon staggered slightly before losing his ground. He fell against the chairs, toppling finally to a prone position, rubbing his chin.

John took hold of Marguerite's shoulders, then caressing her hair back from her temples. "Are you all right? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No…I'm okay, John. Really I am." Pulling on his arm, she pleaded, "Let's go back to the party."

Roxton looked behind him to check on the fallen Damon, but not in time to see the man charging full throttle toward him. Knocked to the ground, Roxton shook his head to regain his composure, then quickly jumped to his feet and lunged toward the offending man. They grappled with each other, pushing, swinging, and knocking into whatever objects stood in their way. It didn't take long before they had attracted the attention of the nearby crowd. 

Gabriel was the first to reach the scene, trying to pull his partner from the skirmish, with no success. Both aggressors seemed intent on punching the other until one or both were knocked senseless, which is probably how it would have ended if Damon hadn't pulled a knife hidden in his boot. 

Marguerite screamed, "John, look out!" 

Roxton grabbed for his own knife, but Gabriel was adamant about stopping the fight before someone was seriously wounded. He made another futile attempt to pull Damon away from Lord Roxton. He feared they were determined that one or the other was to die. 

Tonight though Gabriel would be the unlucky man in this threesome. Damon pushed him away, but Gabriel stumbled, lost his balance and fell between the two men. His large burly body plunged against one of the drawn knives as the sharp blade was driven in up to the hilt. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Marguerite ran to John's side, but stopped short when she saw the blood of the dead man dripping from the knife her betrothed held. It was his knife Gabriel had fallen toward. It was Roxton who had inadvertently killed the man trying to keep peace that night.

Clutching his arm, she cried, "John, oh my God, what have you done?"

Damon dropped his knife and knelt to the dead body of his partner. Rising he took a menacing step in Roxton's direction until he saw Challenger and Tribune running toward them. Behind them was Oracles, one of the senators who had attended the palace feast, followed by a guard of centurions.

Still in shock, John looked down at the bloody knife he was holding, then to the others. With widened eyes, he said, "It was an accident. He somehow got in the middle and…it was an accident."

Oracles stepped forward, slowly taking the knife from Roxton's hand. "Yes, maybe an accident, but you both had your weapons pulled and ready to kill. This man was only trying to stop the fight. If he hadn't stepped between, one of you would have most certainly killed the other. It just happened to be your knife, Lord Roxton, that Gabriel fell against." 

Turning to the guards standing closest to him, he shouted, "Arrest this man. We hold trial tomorrow morning."

*******

Back at the palace, Marguerite, herself in a state of semi-shock, was pleading with Tribune to let her see John.

"I need to see him, Tribune. You have to understand. I need to talk to him…to make sure he's all right."

"It's best for you and the professor to keep a low profile, Marguerite. You'll do him no good right now. It's more prudent to wait till after the trial."

"He's right, my dear. The less they see of the two of us the better it may be for John." Turning to Tribune, "Is there anything you can do for him? Speak on his behalf, remind the senators he comes from noble blood? He's a well bred gentleman who isn't the type that goes around killing deliberately."

"I can serve as his supplicant. Plead his case. After all, I know him better than any of the senators or citizens that will be attending the trial. Other than that, I'm afraid it's out of my hands. I rule in name only. The real power rests with the judicants conducting court tomorrow morning. There's a good chance thought I can get his sentence reduced."

"Sentence!" Marguerite shouted. "He's not even stood trial yet and you're already talking about sentence?" She put her hands to her face and shook her head. "This can't be happening." Looking into Challenger's face, "Tell me it's not happening. Not to John. He's not a murderer. It was an accident." 

"There's nothing more any of us can do tonight. I suggest we retire for now and look at this through clearer eyes in the morning. I'll come for you when it's time."

**********

DAY THREE

Marguerite was awake most of the night, sleeping only an hour or so at a time. Challenger had insisted she try to sleep some, as he had no idea how stressful the impending trial would be for her.

Dawn arrived right on time, allowing only a small sliver of sunlight to penetrate the small window of the room she and Challenger had been given to share for the night. Unlike her usual way of starting the day, she was up before dawn, still fully dressed from the night before.

Tribune knocked on the door and announced it was almost time for the trial to begin. A solemn Challenge opened the door, with an even more solemn Marguerite standing behind him. As they made their way along the corridor, down the cold stone steps to the courtroom, Challenge took Marguerite's hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

Walking to the courtroom, Marguerite felt a sudden chill from the coldness of the stone hallway, even though torches burned brightly in metal wall sconces every few yards. She wondered what conditions John must have endured last night. She feared that, wherever he had spent the night, it was as cold as the rest of this part of the palace. 

Her heart felt as though it were being held in a vise thinking of John sleeping alone in a cold jail cell, without a blanket or a fire, or herself to keep him warm. Back at the treehouse, they were both so accustomed to falling asleep with their bodies touching each other, she dreaded the thought of him being alone, even for one night. 

Approaching the door to the trial room, two large guards stepped forward crossing their spears to block their entrance. Tribune stopped abruptly to face Marguerite. "My dear, I'm afraid this is as far as I can let you go. Unfortunately, women aren't permitted in our courts of law. You'll have to wait here." He motioned to the wooden planked bench along the wall.

"I don't understand. You had a female leader, Centuria. Why would you not permit women to witness a trial?"

"It's mainly because of Centuria and her disastrous reign that women have sadly been relegated to second class citizenship."

"But I want to be there. I need to be there with him."

Challenger took her arm and led her to the bench.

"As Tribune said, it's probably better if you wait here, Marguerite. John would want it that way. I'll be there and I promise to keep you posted." Turning to Tribune, he asked, "That's all right, isn't it? I can be there…right?"

"Just as you wish, Professor." Taking Marguerite's hand in his, he tilted his head down to look into her gloomy face. "Don't worry, little one. I'll do all I can to plead his case."

Challenger kissed her on the temple. "It'll be all right. You'll see. We'll soon be on our way back to the treehouse, laughing about this adventure."

Tears in her eyes, she forced a quick smile. Nodding she sat down on the bench, leaning her body back against the foreboding stone wall.

**********

Time seemed to stand still as she waited. Her stomach clenched in fear and dread, and at one point feared she would lose what little food remained within her from last night's feast.

If only she hadn't talked John and Challenger into coming here. If only she hadn't been so flirtatious with Damon at dinner. If only it were her in there standing trial instead of John. She would gladly trade places with him. In her mind, this entire debacle was her fault, not John's.

Hours passed, or so it seemed to the pacing woman in the corridor. In reality, John's trial lasted less than hour. The doors finally opened and George appeared amidst the crowd emerging from the courtroom.

"George! George!" she called out. "Over here."

Challenger pushed his way through the throng of people to make his way to the worried, frantic woman.

"Where is he? What happened? He's with you, isn't he?"

"Marguerite, I'm afraid the news isn't good. They found him guilty." He paused to allow her to catch her breath. "Tribune pleaded his case eloquently and at least saved him from a longer sentence." Her eyes widened in terror. "But the tribunal decided he must serve some kind of penance. Two years. He has to serve two years."

The terms of the sentence brought her mind back to reality, and she shook her head shouting, "No! They can't have him." She turned to rush into the now near empty courtroom shouting, "I won't let them have him!"

Challenger ran after her catching her by the arm. Nodding to the wary guards that he had the female human under control, he pulled her back to the bench as Tribune walked out of the courtroom to join them.

Finally in control of her emotions, she asked with a trembling voice, "Where is he, Tribune? I want to see him."

"I've made arrangements for you to say your goodbyes before he's taken away. Come with me." He led them around the corner to a small room adjoining the courtroom. A guard stood sentinel at the hallway door, while another guarded the door leading into the courtroom.

"Marguerite, let me go first. I know John will want you to be the last person he sees before…."

Nodding quickly, she said, "Yes, George, you go first. I'll wait here." As an after thought, she said, "But hurry, please."

Challenger entered the small room and the hallway guard motioned to the second guard to bring the prisoner in.

Roxton was led in, a chain attached to thick metal handcuffs holding his wrists together. His still swollen face and the look of weariness in his eyes told Challenger his friend hadn't slept much the night before.

Challenger hugged John, gripping his two manacled arms. The first words from his lips were, "Is Marguerite all right?"

"She's fine, John. Worried about you, of course. But she's waiting outside to see you. Are you okay? These cuts on your face don't look good. They need tending to. Were you able to sleep at all last night?"

"Some. But right now, I'm not worried about me. It's you and Marguerite. You need to leave here as soon as possible. It's far too dangerous for you to stay." 

Looking into the older man's face, he said, "George, I need your solemn promise that there'll be no heroics. I want no one to try to break me out of here. Even if I did manage to escape, they know where we live. They'd only come after me, and God knows what they'd do to the rest of you. I won't have that on my conscience. I committed a crime, I broke a law and I deserve to be punished." 

Casting his eyes downward in shame, he drew a deep breath before continuing. His conscience was demanding that he purge his guilt from this complex turn of events. Challenger would have to be the one to hear his confession. 

"This is the second time I've taken someone else's life by accident. The first time out of fear for my brother's life, and this time because of my damned jealousy. I was never taken to task or punished for my first crime, and I should have been. Perhaps this is life's way of achieving justice for my brother's death." His voice trailed off when he saw Marguerite being led into the waiting cell.

"One more thing. I'm depending on you to take care of Marguerite. Don't let her blame herself for this. I know she'll try. Do whatever you can to keep her spirits up. Make her understand it won't be forever." 

"Don't worry, John," he said reassuringly. "You know Marguerite's like a daughter to me, just like you're the son I never had. I'll take good care of her. We'll do just as you say, and wait for you to come home. But be careful, don't take any risks. Just come back to us safe and sound." 

With those last words, he gathered the condemned man in his arms and held him a moment longer than usual. Patting him on the back, he left the room before he lost complete control of his emotions.

Roxton's eyes followed her every move as she slowly walked toward him. When she was within touching distance, she reached up to pat his swollen upper lip, now beginning to split from the cuts suffered in the fracas the night before. 

"This needs to be cleaned, John." Smoothing her hand over his bruised face, she started to cry, "…and your poor face…." He instinctively started to throw his arms about her to comfort her, but the handcuffs around his wrists prevented him from doing anything more than lifting his hands to cup her chin. Awkwardly, she ducked her head as he raised both arms to encircle her body. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face close to his chest.

Once against his body, all the frustration of the past few hours poured out. "John, this is my fault. I should never have talked you and Challenger into coming to this dreadful place. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Don't hate me, please don't hate me."

"Marguerite, I could never hate you." Gently pushing her back, he stared down into her tear-filled eyes. "And, this is not your fault. It's mine and my damned temper. And, my jealousy." Using his inner arms to bring her closer to him again, he said, "I've never been able to stand watching another man look at you. Guess it's one of those bad habits I'm paying for right now."

She laughed softly and replied, "Well, it's not the only bad habit you have. But I love you anyway. For all your bad habits, I love you anyway." The tears were beginning to roll from her eyes, and with bent head she sobbed, "Oh John, I can't leave you here. I won't leave you here." 

Bringing his cuffed hands up as far as he could to caress her hair, he said, "Look at me, sweetheart." She raised her head halfheartedly. "I don't want the last thing I see to be you crying. I want to remember you smiling. I won't see it for a while, you know."

Marguerite took one last cleansing sob, and wiping away the tears smiled up into his face.

"I want you to do everything Challenger tells you. No harm is to come to you while I'm gone. Promise me, Marguerite. I won't be able to survive in here if I think you're in danger. You're not to come back here. It's not safe for you or the others. You're to wait for me at the treehouse. Promise me."

"I promise, John. But what am I going to do without you. A whole year! I can hardly stand to go a day without seeing you."

The guard chose this moment to cut their last few minutes short. "Time's up, prisoner. Say your goodbyes now."

Unhooking his cuffed hands from her neck, he felt himself being dragged from the room by the jailer. A second one was pushing Marguerite from the room. 

The gravity of the situation was beginning to seize her insides as she watched the sight of him disappearing. She called out, "John…John……" 

He could still hear her voice as the iron door clanked shut, separating him from the life and world he'd known and from the woman he knew would be waiting for him, no matter how long it took.

**********

Challenger and Tribune were waiting on the other side of the door in the long corridor separating the courtroom from the jail cells - backpacks and rifles on the floor ready for their departure. 

Marguerite stared at the door that had just separated her from the man she loved. Her hands came up to her face and she surrendered to a few moments of silent sobs and tears. Regaining her composure, she rushed up to the lizard leader's face, and pleaded, "Tribune, you could do something, you could free him. You have to free him. This isn't his fault."

"If I could…but…, he shrugged.

George put his arms on her shoulders, pulling her toward him. 

"Marguerite, he did what he could to keep him alive. He convinced them it was an accident, that Lord Roxton was a man of honor and would never deliberately commit murder." 

Turning to face Tribune, he placed his hand on his shoulder, "I want to thank you for what you did for our friend. But we need to ask for one more favor. Do what you can please to make sure he stays alive."

Nodding in acquiesance, Tribune bowed slightly and said, "Consider it my privilege, Professor. I'll ensure he gets the attention he needs." 

Taking a few steps toward Marguerite, he bent down slightly to look into her pale and ashen face. "And, my little female human friend, I'll do what I can to get him released as early as possible. He'll have to serve at least a year. You know that, don't you? But, now you and your companion would do well to leave as soon as possible. I can only hold the senators at bay so long. It wouldn't do for all of you to pay for one man's crime."

Her fire and spirit returning slowly, she wagged her finger in his face, and snapped, "One year, Tribune, and then I'll expect him home." Softening her voice, "But I do thank you, for all you did for him. And, I know Roxton thanks you as well."

She embraced the lizard man, putting her trust in the loyalty and friendship between him and Lord Roxton. There was a bond, an unspoken bond that she was relying on now to keep her betrothed alive the coming year.

With Tribune acting as guardian and chaperone as far as the city gates, Marguerite and Challenger left the Lizard City, saddened by the absence of their friend. 

On their own now, both explorers knew it was going to be a very long and lonely trip back to the treehouse.

**********

On the trail home, Marguerite trudged alongside Challenger clutching Roxton's hat, which she'd managed to retrieve from the room they had shared for a few hours the day before. This, and his belt and guns were all she had to hold onto to keep from losing her mind. He'd want them returned to him when he was released from this unanticipated imprisonment.

A mile or so from the gates of the Lizard City, Marguerite took Challenger's arm, stopping to face him. 

"George, you haven't said a word since we left. Tell me you and Roxton were planning his escape. We are going back, aren't we? Or, maybe we should get the others first and…."

"No, Marguerite. That was one of the last things John made me promise. I know he wouldn't like it if I told you, but I feel you should hear this. It might make the next year easier to bear. I believe John feels he deserves to be punished, almost welcomes it."

"Wants it? Welcomes it? You can't be serious, George. It was an accident. It was self-defense. He didn't deliberately kill that man."

"No, just as he didn't deliberately kill his brother. That was an accident as well. And, it could also have been considered self-defense, in defense of his brother's life. But in his mind, he was never punished for his brother's death."

"Of course, he was punished. He's punished himself every day since that awful accident."

"Not in the eyes of the law. And, we all know the honorable code Roxton lives by. An eye for an eye sort."

"But that would mean a life for a life, and he doesn't want to die. I know John. He doesn't want to die."

"Not since he has another life to live for, to defend and protect. To love. You."

Holding onto Roxton's hat, her eyes begin to well up with tears. "Let's just hope he thinks enough about that love to stay alive for all of us."

*********

Two days later they arrived at the treehouse, tired and dirty. Only two of the plant-filled knapsacks had survived the trip home. They had to carry not only their own baggage, but Roxton's knapsacks and rifles as well. By the time they reached home, both were drained and exhausted. 

Leaving most of the baggage in the compound below, they entered the main room and dropped into the nearest chairs.

"Where's Roxton?" Veronica asked.

Challenger and Marguerite exchanged looks, as her voice lowered an octave. "Something's wrong. I can always tell when something's gone wrong. Challenger, what happened? Where's Roxton? Marguerite? Someone tell me what's going on."

Challenger spoke slowly. "Veronica, Roxton didn't come back with us."

Malone asked uneasily, "Is he hurt…dead?"

"No…no…not dead. There was an …uh…um…altercation at the Lizard City. John attacked one of the citizens and another one tried to separate them but was accidentally stabbed and killed with John's knife. He had to stand trial and was convicted. They're keeping him in prison for at least a year."

"What are you saying? What was the fight about? Why did John attack him?" Looking at Marguerite who was uncommonly silent, Veronica pointed an accusing finger and said, "This was your fault, wasn't it? The fight was over you."

Marguerite jumped from the chair and bolted for her room. Halfway following her, Veronica shouted, "It should have been you that was punished. Not John. What was it over this time, Marguerite?"

Challenger took hold of the young woman's arm. "That's enough, Veronica. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't John's fault either. It was an accident. But Tribune's senators didn't see it that way. You know, I'm surprised this hasn't happened before now. We've lived on this plateau over three years, and we've completely ignored whatever laws exist here."

"But we've always killed in self-defense, just like I'm sure was the case this time."

  
"That's only partially true, Malone. However, we were the guests of this particular civilization. No matter how primitive we may think they are, they do have laws they are ruled by, just as we have in London. Veronica, try to go easy on Marguerite. She feels very guilty over this whole affair. It truly wasn't her fault."

"But she did play a part in it, didn't she."

"The man John fought with was becoming too attentive to Marguerite. I assure you she wasn't returning his advances. In fact, she did everything she could to turn him away. But, you know the jealous streak Roxton has where she's concerned. He did what he did because he felt he had to defend her honor."

"Well, we have to go after him. We have to bring him back."

"No, Veronica. That was one of the last things John made me promise. That no one would try to free him. It's much too dangerous for the rest of us, and he doesn't want anyone else's death on his conscience. Besides, as he said, they know where we live. They'd only come after him, and us."

Malone surprisingly spoke in Marguerite's defense. "George is right. We'll just have to rely on Tribune's honor to take care of him and bring him home when he's freed. As for Marguerite, we all know she's going to suffer without him for the next year. She's going to need her friends right now. Let's not make life any harder for her than it already is."

*********

That evening Malone went to the top of the stairs and called Marguerite to supper, not sure if she would join them or not. But he was doing his part to ensure she still felt like a part of their makeshift family.

A few minutes later, Marguerite hesitantly paused on the top step, trying to decide if she wanted to join the others at the dinner table or run back to her own private sanctuary. Challenger was seated with his back toward her, Veronica was standing at the stove scooping food into the plates and Malone was carrying them to the table. Resolutely, she made her decision and boldly walked into the kitchen, sliding quietly into her usual chair at the table.

"Marguerite, do you want water or…" Malone stopped in mid-sentence almost dropping the plate he was holding.

"Close your mouth Malone. It's still the same old me," she said.

"But…your hair….," he sputtered.

Veronica turned to look at Marguerite.

Her face paled when she saw the forlorn looking woman sitting before her. 

"Your hair! Oh my God, what did you do?" cried Veronica.

Challenger stood up and circled the bedraggled woman, who was now cringing down in her chair with the scrutiny to which was being subjected to at the moment.

Stroking his goatee, he shook his head. "Oh dear. John's not going to like this."

Marguerite fluffed what was left of the shorn locks off her shoulders, and holding back a sob, said, "I…I…I didn't cut it that much. And…it'll…grow."

Veronica slumped down in her chair. "But why, Marguerite? Whatever possessed you to cut your hair?"

"You said it should have been me. Having to live without John for a whole year, somehow just didn't seem enough of a punishment. But, cutting my hair…well…" She fought to hold back the tears. Losing the battle, she covered her face and ran from the room, down the stairs back to her and John's room.

Challenger started to follow her, but Veronica took his arm and held him back.

"No, I think it should me this time."

**********

Veronica softly knocked on the bamboo doorframe. "Marguerite, it's me. I'm coming in."

There was a muffled sound coming from the woman laying face down on the bed, sobbing as though her heart was broken. For more reasons than one, it was.

"Marguerite, I've come to say I'm sorry. What I said this morning was totally out of line. You know, the part about it should have been you that was punished. Of course, you're going to suffer every day till Roxton returns." The blonde huntress sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out stroking the older woman's hair, or at least what was left of it. "But your hair…."

Marguerite rose up off the bed and put her arms around Veronica's neck, sobbing into it. "It was my fault. Everything was my fault. It was me who convinced John and Challenger to go there in the first place. I..I..I didn't think I was leading that man on, I wasn't flirting. I swear I wasn't. But John thought he was getting too familiar, and well you know the rest."

Patting her on the back and comforting her as best she could, she said, "Oh yes. I do know how John is where you're concerned. He always thinks the worst in cases like this. But your hair….", she repeated.

Pulling away, wiping her face dry, Marguerite replied, "You've said that already. I know…my hair."

Tugging at the freshly cut strands, Veronica said, "Well, at least you only cut it shoulder length. It'll grow fast in the jungle heat. It should be back to the same length by the time John gets back."

"You really think so?"

"Oh sure," Veronica tried to assure her. "You've been trimming it an inch every month since you've been on the plateau. You just won't have to do that for another year. Think of all the time you'll save."

They both started laughing, the first time for each since that morning.

The laughter, however, disappeared quickly when Marguerite remembered where John was at this very moment.

"Oh, Veronica. To think I was mad at him for waking me up early that morning we left. And, I refused to go walking with him that first night camping," she wailed. "What I'd give to have those moments back. What am I going to do without him?"

Veronica put her arms around her friend to comfort her. She knew it was going to be hard for all of them the next year without Roxton, but so much worse for the woman who loved him more than life itself.

**********

That night in the silent privacy of her room, Marguerite sat on the bed she'd shared with John. She never thought it would be this quiet and still without him. Sleep was out of the question at the moment as it was far too early in the evening and she was far too wide-awake. There had to be something she could do to occupy her feverish mind. That's when she remembered the letter John had written her before departing on the journey that had torn them apart. 

She reached under the pillow. Yes, it was still there. She leaned back against the bed frame and started to read.

__

My darling Marguerite,

Another night together, another morning waking up with you next to me. I sometimes wonder what right thing I must have done in my life to deserve your love and affection.

She had only read the first line and a lump formed in her throat. The overwhelming sense of emptiness was more than she could bear. How was she ever going to endure a whole year without him? She jumped off the bed and went to the vanity. Pulling paper and a pencil from the shelf, she began to write.

__

My dearest John,

There aren't enough words to express how much I miss you. I miss being able to reach out and touch you. What I'd give to have you wake me up at dawn tomorrow morning. I'll never complain again. 

You won't read these letters till you're home again, but that won't stop me from writing them. I'll be reading yours every day, memorizing them, remembering every loving word.

You must know how much I love you, John…today, tomorrow and the rest of my life. You're always with me, if not in body then always in spirit.

All my love…your wife…

Marguerite

She folded the letter carefully, and placed it in her silver jewelry box, the first of many to be secured safely until John's return. It would be the only way of communicating with her absent lover, that and through her dreams. She knew John would be doing the same during the next year.

Marguerite took one of John's shirts and his hat and laid them on the pillow. Lying down, she faced the articles of her missing lover and held on to them as she cried herself to sleep on that first of so many nights without him.

**********

The days grew into weeks, and then into months. The stack of unread letters to John grew…and…so did Marguerite's hair.

**********

11 MONTHS LATER

She woke that morning in the small bed she and John had shared and her first thought as always, was of him and that soon he would be home. If her thoughts and wishes had held any weight over the last months, he would already have been returned to her. But it wasn't up to what she wanted. Her darling John was still in the hands of the enemy. 

Every night since that first night without him, Marguerite had carefully placed John's hat and one of his shirts on the pillow next to her, falling asleep holding onto them knowing he was alive somewhere but sleeping alone as well. She knew the others would have thought she'd lost her mind if they knew, so she kept it to herself. Maybe she would share it with John when he returned. And, then again maybe not. 

Having a part of him next to her each night was a comfort, a small one to be sure, but a comfort just the same. Still able to smell his scent on his clothes drove her to tears many nights. That and writing him weekly letters was all that was keeping her sanity intact till he was back home where he belonged, with her in their small bed in the room they shared.

Marguerite had felt loss before in her life, but never like this. She'd longed and yearned for him every day and every night since the separation so many months ago. 

But yesterday had been Saturday, and last night as usual, she'd composed another letter to John. It still lay on the vanity table, unfolded and not yet placed in the silver jewelry box. It would take him awhile to read all those letters, but when he returned they would have a lifetime to do whatever it took to make up for this lost time. 

She could smell coffee brewing and knew Veronica was in the kitchen. The pungent bouquet permeated every corner of the treehouse that morning, especially hers. Breathing in the delicious aroma, she dressed quickly and hurried into the kitchen. After all, it was her turn to cook breakfast. 

Much to everyone's surprise, over the past year she'd passed the time by learning to cook. Veronica had volunteered to be her mentor, by way of making up for the violent words she'd shouted to the older woman that day so long ago when they had returned without Roxton. And, Marguerite had gratefully accepted the offer. 

Marguerite was sure John would be proud of the way the two had bonded during his absence, as well as the improvement in her culinary skills. He had always been aware of the tension existing between her and the younger woman since they'd all become housemates, and had hoped (sometimes beyond hope) they would eventually become close friends.

Marguerite was tying the strings of her apron around her waist when Malone sauntered into the kitchen asking if anyone needed his assistance.

"Maybe some more firewood. We seem to be running low," Veronica said.

"Coming right up."

Over the past months, Malone had done his best to pick up the slack. With Roxton not there, there had been a shift in the workloads for everyone. In fact, it had become his responsibility to roast the coffee beans, a task he welcomed as it usually kept Marguerite in a good mood for the rest of the day.

Gathering the logs at the woodpile, he heard movement in the heavy underbrush and could tell it was headed straight for the treehouse. He grabbed Roxton's rifle, always kept handy for emergencies, bringing it swiftly around as he cocked the trigger.

"Stop right there. Show yourself," he shouted walking to the edge of the electrical fence.

Slowly the hidden figure emerged, pushing the lower branches of the trees aside. 

"Don't shoot. I come as a friend."

Malone quickly lowered and uncocked the rifle recognizing the intruder as Tribune, leading two horses behind him.

"Tribune. Whew! You gave me quite a scare. What are you doing here?" A sudden dread flushed over the young journalist. "It's not Roxton, is it? He's not dead, is he? Has something happened to him?"

"So many questions. No welcome? No 'happy to see you, Tribune'?"

Malone opened the gate to allow him to enter. Shaking his head mockingly, he said sarcastically, "Of course. I should be welcoming the leader of the tribe that's imprisoned my best friend the past year, just for defending himself. Where are my manners?"

"Mmmmm. I see it's the same skepticism as always. I did say 'I come as a friend.' Ah well. If I didn't have such good news, I might be offended. But this should be a happy day for all of us."

"Happy? Good news? It's Roxton, isn't it? "

Hearing the commotion below in the compound, Marguerite leaned over the balcony. "What's going on down there? Who are you talking to Malone?"

"Marguerite, it's Tribune. He has good news about Roxton."

Before the last words were spoken, she was running toward the elevator, cursing the slowness of the lift as it descended to the jungle floor.

She nearly collided with Ned as she ran to Tribune. "Where is he? Is he all right? Tell me, now!" she demanded holding on to his arm.

"And, it's good to see you too, Miss Krux." He turned to Ned and shrugged, "Has everyone lost their sense of good manners?"

"Tribune, if you want to see tomorrow, you would be wise to tell me right now. Where is Roxton?"

Smiling into her scowling face, he said, "He's waiting for you by the pond. He wanted to clean up a bit before…."

Marguerite bolted toward the gate, ripping off the apron and tossing it to the ground. Before reaching the gate, however, she stopped suddenly and ran back to throw her arms around Tribune. "Thank you. Thank you for bringing him home." 

Malone tossed her the rifle grinning broadly. "Here, Marguerite. Wouldn't want you to be delayed by some hungry raptor along the trail." 

Hugging the beaming young journalist, she gratefully accepted the weapon, then ran through the gate toward the pond where her world was waiting for her.

**********

Once on the trail she slowed down, not knowing what to expect. Even though her vision of him over the past year had remained the same, the way he looked the last morning they'd left the treehouse as a group, she knew he'd be changed somehow. How much would remain unanswered until she saw him again.

She began thrashing through the branches of the trees surrounding the pond. Following the trail she passed the places where she and John had exchanged so many lazy afternoons, lying on the lush grass, staring at the clouds above them. She'd spend many hours there in the past months remembering those fond moments, when they'd held each other close, planning their future years together.

Reaching the edge of the pond, she stopped abruptly.

"Roxton," she barely whispered. Dropping the rifle to the ground she raised her hands to her mouth. Voice rising, she said, "John, is that you?"

It couldn't be the same John Roxton she'd left in the jail cell almost a year ago. That Roxton had stood tall, tanned and robust, full of life. Standing before her was a gaunt, pale shell of a man. His hair was past his shoulders, still dark, jet black but a few white streaks were becoming obvious around his temples. And, the once snugly fitting pants and shirt, which had stretched so gloriously across his chest and back muscles, were now torn, tattered and loosely hanging from his thin body.

She walked slowly towards him, and from the frightened look on his face feared he was ready to bolt and run at the sight of her. When she reached him, he swayed slightly and for a second she thought he would topple over at her feet. Instead, he fell against her, slowly sliding his arms around her waist. Her arms were around him instantly, holding on to him as much as holding him up. 

The held on to each other possessively and in silence for a few moments before John spoke. "I never thought I'd see you again." Tightening his grip on her, he amended his statement, "I was afraid I'd never see you again."

"How could you possibly think something like that."? Her hand reached up to smooth down the clump of unruly hair that still rested atop his head. It was the only part of him that had remained unchanged.

"I didn't want you to see me like this. Tribune was supposed to keep you at the treehouse until I could at least shed myself of some of this." He motioned to the scruff of hair growing on his cheeks and chin.

Marguerite smoothed her open palm over the stiff bristle covering his thin face. She wasn't sure a shave would have made much difference in whether she would have recognized him or not. His face had thinned and his cheekbones were more prominent than ever.

Wanting to touch every part of his body, her hand continued down his chest and his rib cage. "You're so thin. Didn't they feed you in that awful place?"

Sitting down on the nearest rock, he said, "Oh, they fed us, all right. But not very appetizing food. Then they worked it off us. If I hadn't already had some flesh on my bones, I probably would have died like some of the others around me."

Still holding onto him, Marguerite leaned against his shoulder, nuzzling her head against his. "It must have been horrible." Sudden anger flashed through her mind. "Tribune was supposed to be looking out for you. Wait till I give him a piece of….."

"Oh, no. Don't blame Tribune. It's because of his intervention I'm still alive. He was instrumental in making sure I had preferential treatment."

Shocked, she shouted, "Preferential treatment!!! Is this what he calls preferential treatment? You're like a skeleton, pale as a ghost, hair half way down your back, unshaven! Whatever did they do to you in there?"

John beamed up at her and her unyielding way of putting the truth. "You don't know how much I missed hearing that glorious temper of yours. I missed every part of you, but most of my dreams were about the arguing and the making up part.

"Well, you're home now and I'm going to take care of you." She knelt down before him and slipped her arms tightly around his waist. Kissing him around the temples, she said, "I'll never let you out of my sight again. I'll never leave your side." She pressed her cheek against his frail chest. "I'm afraid you're going to get awfully tired of seeing me."

He kissed the top of her head, and said, "Tired of you? That could never happen."

**********

Veronica stood at the balcony peering over the railing for about the tenth time since Marguerite had left the treehouse. "What's taking them so long? They should have been back by now."

Challenger patted her shoulder, "We'll give them a few more minutes, then we'll go look for them."

Sarcastically, she replied, "If I know Marguerite, she'll want to keep him to herself for as long as she can."

"Wouldn't you feel the same way if it were me instead of Roxton?"

"Hadn't thought about it in that way. And, yes Ned, I would feel the same way." Pointing over the railing of the balcony, she shouted, "There they are. I see them."

Face flushed with excitement, Challenger said, "Now, let's not expect him to look the same. We don't know what conditions he had to bear this last year. No disrespect, Tribune, but…."

Tribune, who had been admiring the foliage in the library, turned and said, "None taken, professor, but it seems as though I was only able to barely keep him alive."

"He's so thin," wailed Veronica, "and his hair's longer, but you can still tell it's Roxton."

Marguerite shouted up to the balcony, "Send the elevator down, we're home."

She led John through the compound, past the woodpile and the ax sharpener. He touched the mechanical contraption at which he'd spent so much time, as if saying hello to an old acquaintance.

The elevator lift landed finally at the base of the jungle floor and Marguerite, holding her hand on his lower back, guided him into the small enclosure.

As they ascended through the tree trunk, Roxton leaned against her and said worriedly, "I'm a little nervous seeing everyone again. I've changed. I don't look the same."

"Sweetheart, you've been through an ordeal I doubt the rest of us could have survived. You're tired, that's all. In a few weeks, we'll get you fattened up again. You just need a good rest."

"And a good woman's touch."

Beaming into his face and batting her eyelashes, she said, "Volunteering for service, milord."

He took two steps out of the lift, and Veronica and the others surrounded him immediately, hugging and welcoming home the returned hunter.

Marguerite shrunk to the side, allowing the others to take pleasure in this reunion with their friend who'd been absent for so long. After all, she'd had the longest moment with him, and she knew it would be her he would turn to in the next few days. 

Seizing the moment, she pulled Tribune aside to have those words with him she'd promised John earlier.

"Tribune, I was ready to give you the darker piece of my mind. But on the walk back, John told me all you did for him, especially the part of getting him released early."

"The warden and the guards of our prisons have this nasty habit of working the prisoners till there's very little life left in them. Somehow it just didn't seem to be a fitting way of repaying Lord Roxton for his friendship." 

"Well, whatever your reasons, I thank you for bringing him back home, alive and in one piece. Although, from the sight of him I have my work cut out for me." 

"You're all he talked about on the trail home. Ah, it must be what you humans call love."

"And, what exactly do your people call it?"

"Mmmmm…more like lust."

"How charming."

Sensing that the weakened John was being overwhelmed by all the attention, Marguerite decided to interrupt the noise in the main room. "Okay, everyone. Let the man breathe." Taking his arm, she led him to the kitchen table. "And, someone set more plates for John and our guest."

"Oh, thank you my dear for the gracious offer, but I really should be leaving. I've played out my part in this little scenario and now it's time I left it to the rest of you. Lord Roxton's in good hands, I'm sure of that."

"Please, Tribune. Won't you stay? I really am grateful for all you've done," Marguerite pleaded.

Taking her hands in his, he said, "No need to say the words, my dear. I can see it on your face and in your eyes. Lord Roxton is a very lucky man." He sighed and continued, "Thank you for the offer, but I really must be on my way. A kingdom doesn't rule itself, you know. I'm needed if only in name."

John and Tribune walked together in silence to the lift, heads bent, talking quietly. Before saying goodbye, both men said put their arms about each other. It seemed odd to see the lizard man showing such emotion for a human, but considering the friendship between the two, not so unusual after all.

When John returned to his friends in the main room, Marguerite had already begun planning his day.

"The first thing we need to do is get you bathed, shaved," she fingered his long hair gingerly, "...and cut this hair! After that, a light meal, then it's right into bed for you. You need to rest after your ordeal."

"Marguerite, I really think a routine exam is the first priority. Just to see if all his vitals are normal."

"Well, of course they're not normal, George. He just spent almost a year in a prison of an uncivilized tribe of …of..lizardmen…for heavens sake. He needs to be cleaned up first, fed…then…"

"Calm down you two," John interrupted. "There's enough of me to go around for both of you. Looking gratefully up into Marguerite's eyes, he said, "Why don't you get the bath ready in our room, while Challenger does his exam." He reached out and squeezed her hand in his frail one. Smiling he said, "I'm not going anywhere, Marguerite. I'm home to stay."

"Come on," Veronica said, pulling her away from the table. "I'll help you get everything ready." Turning to Roxton, she said, "I agree with Marguerite, it's probably a good idea for you to rest most of the day, John. We can catch up tonight at supper." Placing a hand on his shoulder, "It is good to have you home."

"All right, George. I'll turn him over to you. Just long enough to exam him." She lifted her finger to his face, "But I expect to have him the rest of the day."

Veronica and Marguerite were well out of earshot when Malone chuckled, "Looks like you traded in one jailer for another, Roxton."

Challenger nodded. "You'd be wise to settle back and accept her demands. It makes for a much more peaceful day."

"I made up my mind long ago to submit to whatever she wants. She is the woman I plan on spending the rest of my life with. You know, for better or worse."

"And, which is this? Better or worse?" Malone asked.

"Definitely for the better, I would say."

**********

Roxton was at last turned over to Marguerite's capable hands, and in her sternest voice she ordered him to shed his tattered clothes and step into the copper plated tub. Soaking in the hot soapy water, he felt his taught muscles begin to loosen and relax while Marguerite proceeded with the cutting of his hair. Finishing to her satisfaction, she then laid out the necessary equipment to shave the scruffy hair from his thin face.

For the next hour, he was treated to a multitude of tsks, gasps, and mutterings as she discovered the various bruises and cuts that abounded on his now thin and fragile body. Normally, he would have been saying, 'Don't make a such a fuss over me,' but these were not normal circumstances. After the last year, it was just the cure for everything that ailed him.

Once cleaned, scrubbed and shorned, Marguerite had him lay on the bed on his stomach while she rubbed oils and salves onto the wounds he'd suffered during his imprisonment.

Happy and relieved to be back in the care of his Marguerite, lying on his side he drifted off into a much needed deep sleep.

She dried her oily hands, and covered his naked body with the sheet. Stroking the back of his hair, she laid down beside him. Turning to face his back, she put one arm around his shoulders and smothered her face into the nape of his neck, breathing in the aroma of still damp, freshly shampooed hair and the oils she'd rubbed into his wounds. Fresh tears filled her eyes as she realized how long it had been since she'd held his body next to hers.

**********

John awoke late that afternoon and at once felt Marguerite's warm body snuggled tightly against his, her hand lightly draped over his shoulder. He took it and kissed it gently. She was sleeping as deeply as he had been, and not wanting to wake her, slowly slipped off the bed. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he wandered about the room touching her clothes hanging on the wall hooks, the vanity table, her jewelry box reminding himself how lucky he was to be back home. 

As he passed the vanity he noticed a sheet of paper lying loosely on top. The handwriting was unmistakably Marguerite's. Walking to the window, he leaned against the frame and began to read the letter.

My darling John,

__

It's been almost a year, just short of a month and I'm hoping and praying you come home soon. 

__

It hasn't been easy to find diversions over the past months. I never realized the extent to which you were my entire world, and still are. Not having you here to hold at night has been the hardest ordeal I've ever experienced in my life. Even the twists and turns of my war involvement weren't this hard to bear.

But Tribune promised to bring you home in a year and the wait is almost over. I go to sleep every night dreaming of our being together again.

You've been in my thoughts and my heart constantly, never forgetting what we shared, never giving up on what we will share when you return. And, just think, my darling, it will be for the rest of our lives.

Your loving wife,

Marguerite

In the bed, Marguerite was just waking up and as she felt the empty pillow sat up suddenly in a panic. "John?"

"I'm right here, Marguerite." Moving back to the bed, he sat on the edge of the mattress, and still holding the letter put his arms around her and kissed her sweetly on the lips.

Relieved to know she hadn't dreamed the earlier reunion, that it had been real and he was here, alive and well, she moved up to sit by his side. With one arm around his waist, she rested her chin on his shoulder.

"Oh, you found my letter. It's not the only one I wrote, you know. I wrote one every week. They're all in the jewelry box on the vanity."

"It must be overflowing by now." Standing, he said, "Well, I'll want to read them all."

Pulling him back down on the bed, she said, "No, not tonight. There's plenty of time tomorrow. Tonight I just want to hold onto you."

Laughing he sat back on the bed and began stroking her long silky hair. Frowning suddenly, he said, "Marguerite, your hair seems different. Shorter somehow."

Marguerite stared at him with widened eyes. "What are you talking about? It's no different."

"No, I could swear it's shorter."

Feigning a sudden remembrance, "Oh! Shorter. Uhm…umm…it's probably because Veronica was helping me trim it a few weeks ago, and we started talking and talking…and uh…we both got distracted and she may have taken off just a little too much. But it'll grow. Really, it will."

Not wanting to keep up the pretense, he pulled her close to him and holding her close said, "Marguerite, you don't have to lie any more. Challenger told me about that first day back when you cut your hair, mostly because of what Veronica said that you should be punished as well. He thought I should know how guilty you felt. "

"Oh, John. I'm sorry I lied to you."

He kissed her forehead, then her cheeks, then her lips. "Marguerite, I love you for wanting to share the guilt…and the punishment. It's that same love that kept me alive this last year. I would have given up many times except I knew you were here, waiting for me, still loving me. I would have walked through hell to get back to you and that love."

Sternly he added, "But, you must promise me…no…swear that you'll never, ever cut your hair again. Not for any reason. I'd die inside if I were to ever lose that part of you. And, especially if it was because of me. Promise me."

Turning to face him, she slid her arms around his neck. "Only if you promise never to leave me again."

Nodding, he said, "It's a promise." He kissed her again on the lips, then pushed back on the bed to lie down and rest his head on the pillow.

"Here I am chattering away, and you must be exhausted on your first day back. And, you need to rest…if I'm going to get you healthy again."

Taking her hand and smiling up at her, he said, "I missed you, Marguerite. I missed everything about you."

"Oh, John. You can't even imagine how lonely it was without you."

Remembering they weren't alone in the treehouse, she suddenly said, "I suppose we'll be expected to make an appearance at supper. You must be starving."

"The only thing I'm starving for is to hold onto you. Can we stay here for a while longer, just the two of us?"

"Just the two of us. That's what you said that last night before….." Her voice drifted off. Sighing she said, "That does have a lovely sound to it, doesn't it?"

She laid down beside him again, and touching his face tenderly murmured, "I think the others can wait for a while. What's important right now is that you're home. Finally home."

He shifted his body and wrapped both arms around her waist, resting his head on her chest.

With his head cradled sweetly to her breasts, her words echoed in his mind and heart as he repeated, "Yes, I'm home…finally home."

The End


End file.
